Nigel waited for his luncheon companion in the crowded vestibule of London's most famous club restaurant.

He was to a certain extent out of the picture among the crowd of this new generation of pleasure seekers, on the faces of whom opulence and acquisitiveness had already laid its branding hand.

The Mecca alike of musical comedy and the Stock Exchange, the place, however, still preserved a curious attraction for the foreign element in London, so that when at last Naida appeared, she was exchanging courtesies with an Italian Duchess on one side and a celebrated Russian dancer on the other.

Nigel led her at once to the table which he had selected in the balcony.
"I have obeyed your wishes to the letter," he said, "and I think that you are right.

Up here we are entirely alone, and, as you see, they have had the sense to place the tables a long way apart.